


Rosepetals

by Cowboy_Sneep_Dip



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Angst and Porn, F/F, Fantasizing, Femslash, Hurt/Comfort, Lesbian Sex, Masturbation, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Smut, references to less wholesome sexual activities, which is a tag i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 13:24:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15144035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cowboy_Sneep_Dip/pseuds/Cowboy_Sneep_Dip
Summary: Selena is a very particular woman – in all aspects, really. She’s picky about food, she’s fastidious about her clothing, she’s absolutely unreasonable when it comes to her hair. And, like in all aspects of her life, she is very particular about any degree of personal intimacy. Ordinarily, she has a whole ritual to work through – particular actions and motions that she enjoys, certain settings and moods she likes. Baths, for example. Scented candles. Maybe rosepetals, if she really wants to treat herself and is absolutely certain no one is around. She doesn't love herself often, so when she does, she requires nothing less than the best.Of course, these aren’t ordinary circumstances.





	Rosepetals

**Author's Note:**

> Good afternoon I wrote this in one day after being consumed with Camillena feelings (promise I'll be back to a regular posting schedule soon)

It was not often that Selena was alone.

For someone so fussy as her, it proved to be an issue more than she cared to admit. It was a real balancing act, a delicate dance between having the space she found necessary but not being left on her own. The former found her butting heads with everyone she came into contact with, and the latter found her drowning herself in lonesome despair.

So in a sense, maybe rooming with Beruka was a good thing. She was small, quiet, and kept to herself. She was there, an (unwilling but present) shoulder to cry on, an ear to hear and ignore Selena’s troubles, someone to make sure she got up in time for patrols. But at the same time, she was _always_ there. Selena misses having her own room.

Her boots tap against the stone as she stalks through he halls back to her dormitory. Beruka would be there, after all, sitting motionless at her desk or sharpening a knife with a whetstone, the scraping of stone on steel endlessly grinding away the hours.

Selena misses home – she misses the sunlight, the soft grass and gentle breeze, the trickle of clear streams yet unclogged with muck and grime. She had pried herself free from one blackened hellscape only to arrive at another.

At least the company was good – well, sort of. Lady Corrin was a bit on the dumb side, but nice enough. Beruka, for all her eccentricities, was _fine_ , she supposed. Some of the other guards were on Selena’s watchlist – Niles, in particular, seemed a bit too interested in her background and thus a figure to be wary of.

And of course, there was Lady Camilla. But Selena just couldn’t quite get a bead on her. She was frightening, true, and beautiful beyond all compare. She was kind, doting, nigh-motherly, and something about her just exuded this aura of comfort. Something that made Selena feel like maybe, just maybe, things were okay. Selena doesn’t know what to make of that, and it sets her on edge.

She unlocks the door to her room slowly, letting the clicking and unlatching of the lock announce her presence. She makes as much noise as possible in an attempt to give fair warning to the occupant within.

And at last, she’s home. Or the closest to home she knows, at any rate. She shuts the door behind her.

Their shared bunkroom is small, a little too cramped for her taste, but homey enough. A bunk-bed is pushed against the far corner, the top meticulously kept and neatly made, spotless and almost entirely unused. The bottom half, Selena’s bed, is a pile of sheets and blankets tossed at haphazard angles, pillows piled in the corner.

She unbuckles her sword and rests it against the wall by the door before unfastening the straps of her pauldron. She frowns.

“Beruka?”

No response.

“Beruka?” A bit louder.

She stands on her bed and hauls herself up to double-check Beruka’s bed. She drops to her knees and checks underneath the bunk – you never know with her, right? She opens the closet, checks the armoire. Clothes, all hers, but no Beruka.

She tries to remember if Beruka was out on a mission. She was sometimes sent away for special tasks, tasks Camilla didn’t want Selena involved with. Tasteless ones. So maybe, just maybe…

“Beruka?” One last time, for posterity.

Selena’s heart races. It’s so seldom she gets much alone time, between her partner and being glued to her liege at the hip. She returns to the door and locks it before setting her keys down on the carved wooden desk across from the bunk.

She surveys the room.

Selena is a very particular woman – in all aspects, really. She’s picky about food, she’s fastidious about her clothing, she’s _absolutely_ unreasonable when it comes to her hair. And, like in all aspects of her life, she is very particular about any degree of personal intimacy. Ordinarily, she has a whole ritual to work through – particular actions and motions that she enjoys, certain settings and moods she likes. Baths, for example. Scented candles. Maybe rosepetals, if she really wants to treat herself and is absolutely certain no one is around. She doesn't love herself often, so when she does, she requires nothing less than the best.

Of course, these aren’t ordinary circumstances. This is the culmination of weeks – maybe months – of pent-up energy and frustration, of homesickness and anger and cold, lonely nights spent in fantasy. Of her wandering gaze, cursing the revealing clothes of the Nohrian nobility, those damned outfits that showed off far too much and far, far too little. Of touching herself in the dead of night, quietly and softly, trying not to make noise or wake Beruka as she muffled her groans with her pillow.

Selena leans back against the door and unceremoniously presses a hand up her skirt. Even though the sheer fabric of her tights, she can feel her building wetness. Something builds in her stomach, an urge that she had been repressing, knowing she would remain unfulfilled if it went acknowledged. But now she was alone, at long last.

She lets slip a single gasp as she traces a finger between her legs, pressing the fabric tight against herself. She shifts anxiously, grinding against her fingers, letting her breaths deepen. She gropes herself over her jacket, kneading herself with one hand while the other works between her legs. She whimpers.

And finally, dazed, she stumbles from the door towards her bed. She flops inelegantly onto her mattress at an angle, heedless, groaning as her hands press into her flesh. She tugs her skirt up and pulls the hem up around her stomach, letting her reach down and slide her tights free, peeling them back from the sticky wetness of her midsection.

Her smallclothes are soaked, already a mire of sweat and sex, so she pulls them aside. As soon as her fingers make contact she moans, a pitiful and needful utterance. She closes her eyes and traces a single middle finger down herself, tracing the outline of her folds, teasing herself of her own volition.

She adjusts, sitting up to tug up her vest and jacket, exposing her breasts. She lies for a moment, tangled on the bed, her tights around her thighs and her chest heaving, staring up at the boards of the bed above hers.

She sits up again, reaching around to unclasp her bra and let it fall to her lap. With one hand firmly between her thighs, she begins carefully touching her chest with the other. She traces a finger lightly over a nipple, drawing tight circles.

When pushed about it, Selena takes the defensive without thinking – she knows she’s less, _ahem_ , well-endowed than her liege. And than that maid, the klutzy one. And that border guard. And, weirdly, that little mage girl. That was weird, right? Okay, she was getting off track now.

Point being, Selena _loved_ her breasts. In fact, they were one of the few parts of herself that she did uncritically love – and certainly once having been told that hers were nicer than her mother’s had nothing to do with _that_ , thank you very much.

She shifts to push her chest outward, her half-lidded eyes drifting from her chest to the hand between her legs. She slides her other hand up from her legs and gropes both of her breasts, one in each hand, fingers kneading soft, supple flesh. She feels her nipples stiffen up under her touch into sensitive pink nubs, contact with which sends whimpers dripping from her lips.

“Oh,” she groans softly. “Nng…ah…” Her chest heaves into her touch and she shifts again, pressing her hand against her stomach before trailing it down lower. She presses her fingers into the patch of wiry red hair beneath her hips, sticky with her own juices. She kneads through her hair before diving back down, pressing her fingers into herself. First one, setting a pace to contrast her thumb pressing against her clit. Then a second, and she moaned.

She rocks back and forth, gyrating her hips into the mattress, her harsh breaths punctuated with gasps and whimpers of pleasure. She closes her eyes and lets her mind wander.

First, of course, comes thoughts of home. It’s totally normal to fantasize about ex-girlfriends, right? Of Kjelle’s strong arms tight against her, of her teeth in her neck, the awkward tangle of positions needed to grind their wet cores together. Of Kjelle’s toned abs and lithe tongue.

Selena shudders, recalling memories now long-since melded with fantasy. But, as was wont to happen, the thoughts melt away in a haze as the memories turned into something decidedly less fun – fights and arguments, pain unaccompanied by pleasure. Selena slumps back against her pillow, dejected.

That wouldn’t work. She sits, chest heaving, desperate to reclaim her fleeting arousal before it gives way to despair. Her mind gropes wildly, trying to latch onto something, anything.

 _Fuck it,_ she decides, closing her eyes and doing her best to conjure images of her liege to her mind.

Selena tries to imagine what sex with someone like Camilla would be like. Intense, no doubt. She was just so overbearing, so eternally present. It would probably be smothering, drowning in flesh and lips and hair. Did she bring her ferocity on the battlefield into the bedroom? Was she angry, dominating, terrifying? Selena doesn’t know.

But this is Selena’s fantasy, so she can craft if however she wants, realism be damned.

She presses two fingers against her lips, tracing them lightly, before slipping them into her mouth. She imagines Camilla’s fingers, long and slender, and she sucks, wrapping her tongue around her fingers in sloppy strokes. Truth be told, Selena just liked putting things in her mouth – a fact that had weirded Kjelle out a bit, but as she decided before - This was _her_ fantasy.

She gently pries her mouth open and lets her tongue loll, her mind wandering. She wonders if Camilla shaves – they had bathed together, of course, but Nohrian custom demanded towels be worn at all times. So it remained a mystery. She tries to picture both, trying to decide if pressing her lips into smooth flesh or wiry lavender hair would be better. She probably shaves, right? Someone with such impeccable standards of beauty is probably smooth and hairless. Selena can work with that.

She wonders about the taste. Likely bitter, but this is a fantasy. She tastes sweet, like lilacs and honey, and she feels warm and wet around Selena’s mouth. She grinds against her and Selena responds in kind, pressing her tongue outwards and burying herself in Camilla’s soaking folds.

She groans, shifting and aching under her own touch, a clawing need coiling in her stomach. Pressure building. She grinds against her fingers with increased enthusiasm, throwing any semblance of elegance or grace to the wind. She groans and whimpers, one arm wrapped tight around her ribcage, her nails digging dark red crescents into her skin as she fucks herself with the other. Another moan falls from her lips, this time with Camilla’s name in tow.

“Ca…mmhn…ah…Cam…Camil…ahhh…” she whimpers, pleading desperately to the dark room. “Oh, g-gods, Cami…lla…ah, hng…” She begs, her sharp gasps matching the tempo of her thrusts.

“P-please, Ca…ah…Cami…” she squeezes her eyes shut, her fantasy devolving into a hedonistic orgy of flesh and sex and hurt. In this moment, she would do anything for Camilla. She begs, her mind drawing out dark desires and hitherto unacknowledged wants. “C..Camilla…nngh…”

She wants Camilla to fuck her, gods dammit. To pin her down, to step on her, to crush her, to use those muscles and that frightening energy to tear her apart from the inside. She wants those lithe fingers rammed inside her, into her mouth and her cunt and she just wants everything to _be_ Camilla. She wants her lips around her breasts, she wants her hand around her throat, she wants her teeth in her flesh.

Selena spasms and gasps, pushing herself further and further towards the edge, refusing to let up.

She wants Camilla to choke her, to hit her, to spit on her. To hurt her, dammit. To visit upon her all the pain and pleasure Selena knew she was capable of committing. She wants Camilla to tie her, to bind and gag her, to draw her into her and never let go. She wants Camilla to punish her, to taunt her, to call her names, to call her the worthless slut she is. A toy to be used and thrown away.

Selena whimpers, trying to push herself over the brink, her thoughts swirling in a tangled cavalcade of sexual fantasy and vitriol and self-hatred, and finally she collapses back against her pillow, gasping for breath, heaving as her arousal at last melts away, moments before she crested the peak.

She whines again, this time from frustration. At last she opens her eyes, wiping the tears from her cheeks and the drool from her lips, the throes of her reverie now shameful and uncomfortable. She grimaces at her drool-stained shirt and her sticky tights bunched up around her knees and tries weakly to sit up.

A soft voice makes her heart jump into her chest.

“Selena?”

Selena looks up into a face framed by waves of lavender hair.

 “L-L-Lady Camilla!” Selena cries, hurrying to adjust her clothes and cover her shameful attire. “I d-didn’t hear you come in,” she stutters, her voice shaking. “I…”

Camilla frowns, her face a mixture of pity and fascination. “I was walking by your room when I heard…noises. I…I thought you were crying again.”

Selena stood up off the bed at attention, knowing full well her hair and clothes were disheveled and she smelled of sex and her face was still a deep crimson flush. “O-of course not, milady,” she tries sounding firm.

Camilla takes a step forward and Selena winces, tucking her face into her shoulder. Were her face not already flushed, her cheeks would have turned the color of her hair. Selena stares into the floor, trying to ignore everything but a single fraying rug edge she can fixate upon. A gentle hand touches her.

Camilla cups her chin in her hand and tilts Selena’s head up to meet her gaze.

“Oh, my dear, precious Selena,” she says softly, almost mournfully. “Must you be so cruel to yourself, even in your fantasies?”

Selena’s heart sinks. “H-How long have you been standing there?” Her chest tightens. Had she been talking out loud? “Did…what did you hear?” She says it guiltily, like a child whose parents caught her using foul language.

Camilla, still holding Severa’s face, runs a thumb over her cheek and brushes a smudged tearstain from beneath her eye. “I think we should perhaps have a talk.”

Without warning, Camilla drops her arm and grasps Selena’s leg, sweeping her feet out from under her. Selena yelps, expecting her head to crack into the floor, but instead Camilla catches her with her other arm and Selena feels her back come to rest in her liege’s arms.

“H-hey!” She squirms in Camilla’s grip, the bridal carry almost impossible to worm her way out of. “Hey! Put me down!”

Rather than acquiesce, Camilla instead lashes a foot out, kicking the bedroom door wide and marching into the hall, her cargo in tow. Selena winces, trying to bury her face in Camilla’s torso, trying to make herself as small and invisible as possible. She knows exactly how she looks – disheveled, tearstained, hair mussed and shirt askew, tights still only pulled about halfway up her thighs, skirt hastily covering the rest. Anyone who got within a few feet could certainly smell it, at least.

“Camilla, please put me down,” she pleads.

Camilla says nothing, but her firm and unyielding grip is all the answer Severa needs. She squeezes her eyes shut, knowing that they will pass other guards and servants but hoping that maybe, just maybe she can block it all out.

Her mind races, endless possibilities sprawling in her head like a tangle of yarn. Camilla heard her moaning her name, that much was certain beyond all doubt. But past that…what had she even been thinking about? Did she say anything else? Something about Kjelle, maybe? Selena tries to still her heaving chest, trying not to betray her uneasiness. Camilla’s silence made it all the worse.

Was she going to be punished? Fired? Would Camilla just toss her from the parapets and be done with it? All were equally likely.

Selena doesn’t open her eyes again until she feels herself being lowered, Camilla’s strong grip tilting her towards the ground. She’s in Camilla’s bedchamber, of course, the place done up for the night. Camilla had perhaps been making the ‘goodnight’ rounds one last time before turning in.

Selena’s boots land on soft, plush carpet. She winces, knowing she just got mud on the expensive flooring, but Camilla was the one who had put her down here. Camilla sets her down then takes a step back, watching Selena’s frozen form in the firelight.

Selena’s eyes dart around the room. It’s empty, thank goodness. The bed is still made, Camilla’s nightclothes are laid out on the covers, and a roaring fire is crackling in the fireplace. It’s a spacious room, easily four times the size of Selena’s bunkroom, every corned packed with bookshelves and armoires and heavy wood-carved furniture of all shapes and sizes. There’s a full-size vanity with all the accoutrements that entails, and for a moment Selena is overcome with intense jealousy. What she would give to have _that_ rather than the paltry makeup supplies she can find in the Windmire markets.

Finally, she casts her gaze on the woman herself. Camilla stands before her, resplendent in all her daunting glory, her arms folded over her chest. She seems to be thinking, her dark violet eyes – well, just the one, the other is obscured by hair – fixed on Selena’s unkempt form. Caught in a moment of self-consciousness, Selena runs her fingers through her tousled hair, trying to smooth out the red tangles.

Camilla purses her lips.

“Undress,” she says at last.

Selena stares, dazed. “I’m sorry?”

Camilla gestures one arm vaguely. “Undress.”

“W-why-“ Selena begins to question it before seeing Camilla’s face. She obeys, kneeling to unfasten her boots. She peels her uniform off one part at a time, first her boots, then her vest, then her jacket and skirt. Last are her tights, and then she is bare, standing clad in just her smallclothes before her lord. She wraps her arms tightly around her stomach.

Camilla pads forward, her steps silent. A panther in the night. She stops just shy of Selena and pores over her body – her skin, the patchwork of scars and burns from a lifetime of battles and a lifetime of suffering. Camilla cups her chin and tilts her head left, then right, examining her. Then she speaks.

“Are you afraid of me, Selena?”

Selena nods, knowing that she’s visibly trembling.

“Do you think I’m going to punish you?”

“I…” Selena gathers her courage. “I acted out of line, milady. That was not behavior fitting of a royal guard. If you wish to dismiss me, I-“

“So that’s a yes,” Camilla sighs, weary of Selena’s fronts. She reaches a hand up and smooths out a stray lock of Selena’s hair, tucking it back behind her ear. “Now tell me, Selena. And I want you to be honest.”

Selena gulps.

“Will you be honest with me?”

“Of course, m-milady.”

Camilla traces a finger down Selena’ face before brushing it back up and gently touching her lips. “Do you want to sleep with me?”

Selena’s face burns. The next moment feels like an eternity, a yawning gulf of time that lasts from the rising inflection at the end of Camilla’s sentence to the moment when she finally pulls back and draws her finger away from Selena’s lips, giving her space to answer.

And she _knows_ the answer. They both do. Camilla had heard it, a desperate plea falling from the lips of a broken girl. And Selena had learned in long ago, in the cold and lonely recesses of the endless Nohrian night.

Selena swallows her fear. “Yes.”

Camilla smiles, her lips full and genuine and warm. Without warning, she grasps the back of Selena’s head and tugs her into a kiss, strong but gentle. Selena squirms, startled.

“Oh, goodness, I’m sorry,” Camilla hastily apologizes, stepping back. “I…” She frowns and furrows her brow, as if trying to organize her thoughts.

“I…I have…” she tries and fails to find the right words. Another attempt. “For the longest time, my dear Selena, I was unsure just how I felt about you. You were…enigmatic. A foreigner, an outsider, an unparalleled fighter of exactly zero renown. And just adorable, to boot. I knew that I had to have you. But…it was the nature of that having that made me stumble.”

Her tone isn’t what Selena had expected – it’s kind, gentle, soft. Not a confession, no, but more like a lecture. An array of facts structured to make some greater moral lesson. Selena loosens her grip on herself and lets her arms fall to her sides, little red crescents left where she had been tightly squeezing herself.

Camilla speaks again. “I know you well enough by now to understand your needs. But…after seeing you this evening, I’m left uncertain that you even understand your own needs.”

Selena frowns. What was she getting at?

Camilla chuckles. “Oh, I’ve seen those silly little romance novels you read. What was that one? _Ribald Tales of the Faith War?_ ” She laughs. “An interesting little read, but perhaps not…the ideal standard for relationships, shall we say.”

“As if you’re one to talk,” Selena mutters without thinking. Her ears burn at the mention of her shameful hobby.

Camilla raises an eyebrow. “What was that?”

“If you’re trying to lecture me on a warped view of relationships, maybe you should look in the mirror first.”

Camilla smiles, not bitter but displeased. For a split second, there is a flicker of anger. “Perhaps you’re right,” she muses, her cadence returning to normal. “At any rate, I don’t mean love. I mean sex.”

Selena looks up, frowning. “What about it?”

Camilla takes her hand gentle and runs a thumb across her knuckles. “My sweet, precious Selena…” she brings the hand to her lips and kisses softly. “You know that sex isn’t supposed to be painful, right?”

Selena scowls, her embarrassment at last giving way to impatience. “Yeah, so?” She bends over to begin gathering her clothes. A hand reaches out and stops her.

“I want to show you how it should be. I want to give you the sort of experience you truly deserve.”

Selena freezes, her arms tight around her bundle of clothes.

“Just set those down,” Camilla says softly, draping a hand loosely over Selena’s head.

Selena obeys, slowly setting the clothes back on the carpet.

Camilla hums and strokes Selena’s hair gently. “There’s a good girl.”

The phrase rings like a siren in Selena’s brain, short-circuiting her anger. She looks to Camilla expectantly. _Go on. Tell me what to do._

“So I’m going to ask you again. Do you want to sleep with me?”

Selena nods, dazed and dumbfounded, still reeling from the ups and downs of the past half hour. Hour? Evening? Week? How long has it been?

“May I kiss you?”

Selena nods again and Camilla takes her lips in her own, pressing them tight together with somewhat more aggression than the time before. Selena lets slip a whimper, her sound muffled by Camilla’s tongue brushing her lips. Camilla withdraws, wrapping her arms around Selena and tugging her tight.

“My beautiful, wonderful Selena. How I adore you so.”

Selena’s ears burn and her face lights pink in the firelight. Camilla kisses her cheek lightly.

“Do you want me to make you feel good?”

Selena nods again and Camilla guides her carefully to the bed. Camilla leans over her and kisses her tenderly, then ferociously, practically shoving Selena back onto the bed. Selena responds in kind, wrapping her arms tight around Camilla and kissing back.

Her hands wander, fingering the silk fabric of Camilla’s capelet and falling to rest on the sleek black scale armor along her back. It was ceremonial armor, not functional, and thus terminated just below her waist. Selena let her hands wander lower, cupping Camilla’s buttock before she is shoved back.

Camilla breaks their kiss, smiles playfully and shakes her head. “Ah,” she tuts. “Not yet. This is about you.”

Selena meekly withdraws her hand.

“Good girl,” Camilla says again, patting Selena’s head in a way that would seem patronizing were it anyone else. Selena leans into the touch, trying to urge herself closer to Camilla’s warm, voluptuous frame. Camilla assents, letting Selena bury herself in Camilla’s bosom, the warmth of her flesh a stark contrast to the cool night air.

Camilla, for her part, begins to finish the job of undressing Selena, first unclasping and discarding her bra. Selena squirms in her grip, shifting to maximize the contact of her skin against Camilla’s.

Camilla gropes her, her strong, calloused fingers wrapping tight around Selena’s chest. It’s less than a handful per hand, but the contact draws a moan from Selena’s lips. Camilla kneads her flesh, using the pressure to gently guide Selena backwards to the pillows propped against Camilla’s headboard. Selena lets out another whine as Camilla’s fingertips pinch her nipples.

She whimpers, her breath catching and her voice pitifully weak. She tries to stifle herself by clamping a hand over her mouth but Camilla reaches up and tugs it down.

“You’ve got such gorgeous lips,” Camilla’s voice is soft and sultry. “A pity to not let me see them.” She leans forward and sinks her teeth into Selena’s breast. Selena moans, her hands reaching out to either side and grasping fistfuls of bedsheet. She feels Camilla’s tongue snake out and press against her nipple, running back and forth over the pink nub, drawing more whimpering gasps from Selena.

Satisfied, Camilla leans up and captures Selena’s lips in her own, cupping her face with both hands. She straddles Selena, and at such an angle Selena is free to slip a hand between Camilla’s legs, into the patch of exposed flesh between her underclothes and the bottom of her breastplate. She can feel tight abs underneath the soft skin, energy rippling just below the surface. Before she manages to slip a hand into Camilla’s waistband, her hand is gently swept away.

“One more time,” Camilla says breathily into her ear. “And I might have to punish you.”

“P-punish,” Selena repeats.

“You wouldn’t want that, would you? Such a good girl doesn’t deserve punishment.” Camilla’s hand wanders down to the waistband of Selena’s underwear. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

Selena nods desperately, her whimpering voice melting into a plea.

“I know you are,” Camilla smiles, pressing her hand against Selena’s taught stomach. Selena inhales, sucking her stomach in and recoiling from Camilla’s startling touch.

“My, my,” Camilla teases, tracing her finger down Selena’s underwear. “Wet already, or still wet?”

“S-still,” Selena breathes, trying to inch herself closer to Camilla’s touch. She feels a finger press into the fabric between her legs and she shudders.

Without hesitation, Camilla hooks a finger into her waistband and the hips and tugs, sliding Selena’s underwear down with expert grace and agility. A practiced professional, it would seem.

“What a beautiful girl,” Camilla hums, returning to her position to trace her fingers between Selena’s thighs. She brushes her fingers lightly against her soaked entrance, traces it up her folds, and buries her hands – much to Selena’s dismay – in her patch of hair. Selena whimpers.

“P-please,” she murmurs, spreading her legs wide. She braces herself against the backboard and arches her back, doing her best to present herself to Camilla’s eager fingers. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“T…mnh…touch me,” Selena mumbles at last. She reaches her hands to her own chest and grips herself tightly, massaging her nipples.

Camilla finally acknowledges her request, slipping a finger inside of her at drawing out a squeal. She moves her middle finger slowly, expertly, pressing against the Selena’s insides and making her squirm with pleasure.

Selena leans her head back and moans.

Camilla’s other fingers set to work, her thumb drawing lazy circles around Selena’s clit as a second finger presses inside her. “Look at me,” she commands, lightly. “Selena, look at me.”

Selena lifts her head weakly, blinking her eyes dreamily, pleasure coursing through her hips. “Hhn…?”

“You’re doing so well, sweetie. You’re doing so well.” Camilla smiles, pressing her lips against Selena’s thigh, trailing kisses up to her midsection. “Can I get a smile?”

Selena smiles weakly, dazed.

“Beautiful,” Camilla mutters, trailing kisses up further, kissing between her breasts as she fingers her.

Selena whines and opens her mouth, her sharp exhales coming faster as Camilla works her over. She opens her mouth wide, her tongue lolling, groans escaping in equal measure to her gasping inhales.

“What a pretty mouth,” Camilla presses a finger against Selena’s lips and Selena can taste her own sex as Camilla paints her. “I’m sure we could find something to fill that, couldn’t we?”

Selena nods eagerly, opening her mouth wider and leaning back, stopping just short at begging Camilla to satisfy her oral fixation. She wants to lift Camilla’s fingers to her mouth and suck on them, but is instead surprised to find Camilla withdraws.

She shifts backwards and begins unfastening the armor around her torso, unclasping buckles and tossing the armor to the carpet with a muted _thunk_. When Selena looks up Camilla is already almost bare, a simple black bra accentuated by her opera-length violet gloves, both of which are now stained with saliva, sweat, and sex. Camilla reaches one hand up and tugs her bra down, letting a single breast spill out, stark and creamy in the firelight. Selena takes initiative, shifting forward and sinking her teeth around Camilla’s nipple. No foreplay, no tenderness, no build-up behind her intense, cloying need. Camilla braces the back of Selena’s head with one hand, letting out her own moans as Selena strikes pressure points.

“Hah…oh, g-good,” Camilla hums, pleased. “Oh, what a g-good…ah…hah…girl,” she mutters, her free hand combing through Selena’s hair.

Selena’s hands grasp firmly to her hips, her fingers clumsily fumbling at the fabric of Camilla’s panties as she struggles to balance to acts at once. She sucks Camilla’s breast, moaning into the soft flesh.

Camilla aids her, helping Selena slip her underwear down and off her hips. Selena shifts instantly, kissing down Camilla’s stomach and burying her face between her legs, her tongue lapping frantically at Camilla’s wet folds. For someone so insistent on the evening being about Selena, Camilla was certainly not shy about the act. She leans backwards and spreads her legs, wrapping them tight around Selena to keep her locked against her. She grinds forward, rubbing her cunt into Selena’s mouth in time with her own moans.

Selena Is buried in pleasure, grinding herself against Camilla’s pillows as she hungrily devours Camilla. She presses her lips against her clit, licking and toying with Camilla, pleased at the results as Camilla grinds against her.

She vaguely recalls that she was right – Camilla was, in fact, meticulously smooth, her flesh cool and slick with Selena’s saliva and Camilla’s own wetness. Selena trails her tongue back and forth, leaving sloppy kisses across her before finally thrusting her tongue as deep into Camilla’s core as she can.

Fed up at last, it seems, Camilla shifts, using her strength to pick Selena up and forcible move her. Camilla lays Selena down and sits on her face, grinding her cunt against her mouth and returning the favor by leaning forward and burying her own face between Selena’s legs.

Selena reaches both hands up and tightly grips Camilla’s ass, trying to tug her down farther, deeper, harder. Her bottom half feels nearly numb, awash with pleasure as Camilla works her mysterious sex magic, her tongue and her fingers working in conjunction to send Selena spiraling into a void of electric heat. She can feel the pressure building, her orgasm worming its way out at long last, a rush of fire coaxed out by Camilla’s motion. Camilla repositions again, this time placing herself between Selena’s legs so that she can eat her out and look at her at the same time, a position that makes Selena’s face flush with embarrassment.

Her hair is surely disheveled, her eyes are watering, her tongue is lolling and a film of drool and Camilla’s cum drips from her mouth to her bare chest, and yet.

“You’re doing so well,” Camilla says again, thrusting her fingers in and out, her praise interspersed with teasing licks and nips at Selena’s clit. “You’re almost there.”

Selena groans, whimpering and crying as Camilla pushes her closer and closer. And her head is empty. An abyss of pleasure, where her world is nothing but the soft pillows at her back and the silken sheets bunched around her bare legs, and Camilla’s tongue and her fingers and her warm words, and the crackling fireplace and Camilla’s muscular back, tensing with the effort. Selena’s breath catches and she reaches the crest, crying out and reaching down to clasp Camilla’s head and hold her tight, grinding against her as the aftershocks of her orgasm ripple through her body. She gasps for breath, tears dripping from her eyes, her chest heaving and her hands trembling. She withdraws her hands, almost afraid to see the mess she’s made of her liege – not just her liege, but the crown princess of Nohr.

She gasps and sputters for air, curling up into herself, reaching a trembling hand to wipe the tears from her eyes.

Camilla, face splattered and sticky, looks up with a bright smile, obviously pleased with her handiwork. She pads forward on her hands and knees and kisses Selena, first on the cheek then on the lips.

Selena reaches her hands up and steadies them on Camilla’s head, keeping their two faces locked together until she needs to break to breath. Camilla smiles sweetly and kisses her again, a chaste peck on the lips.

“You were wonderful.”

Selena’s ears burn and she begins dutifully wiping Camilla’s face. “Yeah, well…” she trails off, mumbling, her bliss dissolving – but dissolving slowly.

“Is something wrong?” Camilla asks, concerned. She aids in the process, picking up a corner of the sheet to dab the sticky wetness from Selena’s chest.

Selena folds her arms over her chest and curls back against the headboard, pouting. “I just…thought about what it’s going to be like, going back to my empty room to sleep.”

Camilla seems genuinely taken aback by this. “What do you mean?”

Selena gestures. “You just did this to make me feel better. And now I...”

Camilla sighs, cupping Selena’s chin and tilting her head upwards. She uses the sheet to wipe Selena’ mouth, her cheeks, then her eyes. Dutifully and with purpose. “You sweet, silly little girl.”

Selena pouts into her shoulder. “What.”

"When you became my retainer, you swore to me that you would obey any order. Anywhere I demanded you be, you would be."

"And?"

Satisfied, Camilla brings Selena’s face up and kisses her deeply. “What better place is there for you than by my side?”

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my writing, you can commission me! You can contact me at din2.0@comcast.net or shoot me a DM at lucisevofficial.tumblr.com to discuss.


End file.
